It’s Furious Balancing

I thought it would be appropriate — considering my woeful grasp on U.S. history — to read the text of the Declaration of Independence.  Taking ten minutes, if not less, to read up on Why I’m Enjoying a Three-Day Weekend seemed like a good idea to me (and it’s helping me put off the housework that needs doing).

In any event, I drew some interesting parallels between Getting Rid of King George and Getting Rid of Dubya; and, yes, my emphasizing certain bits is my not-so-thinly-veiled editorializing.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security.

Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world….

He has obstructed the administration of justice, by refusing his assent to laws for establishing judiciary powers.

He has made judges dependent on his will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance….

He has affected to render the military independent of and superior to civil power….

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury;

For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pretended offenses….

For taking away our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and altering fundamentally the forms of our governments;

For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever….

In every stage of these oppressions we have petitioned for redress in the most humble terms: our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated injury.  A prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Amen. Amen. Amen.  Enjoy your Independence Day, cats and kittens.

5elementknitter¹ used the word soul-sucking in her comment on my previous post, and I think that is the best word to describe my last sock knitting project.  The Socks That Wouldn’t End.  The Socks of Doom.  The Thorn in My Side Socks.  The Ninth Circle of Hell Socks.  The Oh-My-God-I-Need-To-Stab-Myself-In-The-Eye-With-A-DPN Socks.

Once again, for the record, there is nothing wrong with this sock pattern.  Nothing.  Not. One. Thing.   In fact, I think it’s a great pattern for beginning sock knitters who would like to make something that Looks Really Impressive and Complicated, But Isn’t.  This pair of socks lets you tell every non-knitter How Hard and Challenging They Are.  Srsly, cats and kittens, we’re talking a 17-stitch lace pattern worked over 8 rows, and only 4 of those rows involve lace.²

These socks took me 10 weeks to knit.  I know I’m a slow knitter, but I usually take no more than a month on a pair of socks, knitting on and off.  I was three-quarters done with these socks when I ripped back the entire Second Sock and started over.  It was ugly.  I’m glad I did it, but it was ugly.  In any event, I wanted to write my standard FO blog post and then hide these socks until September/October when I won’t mind looking at the yarn again.

Pattern:  Blackrose Socks, by Suzy Anvin

Yarn:  Dream in Color Smooshy, Gothic Rose, approximately 360 yards.  Even though I love this colorway, I think staring at it for 10 weeks was the major problem.  My next pair of socks will be made with something considerably brighter.

Size:  Small

Needles:  US 0, 1, and 1.5 to customize the fit.  I started with the 1.5’s, then switched to 1.0’s after the first four lace repeats to accommodate my skinnier ankles.  I switched to the 0’s to make a dense (i.e., less prone to holes) toe.

Mods:  I did very little modding on these socks.  I did nine repeats of the lace pattern before the heel turn instead of eight repeats since I wanted to add a little length to the leg.  I did my usual shortened heel flap by working 27 rows as opposed to the 33 called for in the pattern.

They fit like a dream come true.  These are my fourth ever pair of socks and I think I’m getting the hang of customizing socks for my German Peasant Calves and Dainty Elf Feet.  Or something like that.

1. Go check out her blog and get yourself a Stitch Saver while you’re there.  I own a few and have given several as gifts; they are, without doubt, the best gadget I have in my knitting bag. [↩]
2. The other four rows are straight, no-thinking-required knit rows. [↩]

“You lack faith,” said Candide.

“It is because,” said Martin, “I have seen the world.”

– Voltaire (Candide, Chapter XXIV)

Checking in — Not necessarily because I have something to say.  I’m hoping if I start typing something, anything, I can get out of the not-blogging rut.

For the insatiably curious:  I have played 350 games of that 1-win-in-200 solitaire game without winning a single hand.¹

For the knitters:  I finally finished the Black Rose socks.  I have rechristened them the “Thorn in My Side” Socks.  10 weeks of knitting.  It’s not that it’s a difficult pattern² or that the yarn was hard to work with.³  It was all operator error.   I ripped back the second sock after I seriously goofed the heel turn and tried to fix it.  I frogged four-weeks’ of progress in a fit of pique.  I don’t have a decent picture to show you yet , though.  My photography skills, such as they are, are failing me.

For those monitoring my mental health:  Let’s just say that if I wasn’t on Wellbutrin, things would be Extremely Bad.  On the Wellbutrin, it’s Merely Bad in General.  Hate summer.  Hate light.  Hate heat.  I’ve been trying to make a list of “positive” things about summer.  Let’s see.

• Lots of time sitting in an air conditioned house working on big knitting projects. ⁴
• Thunderstorms.
• Fresh home-grown catnip for the pusses.
• Nectarines, my favorite fruit, are in season (and sold in lovely air-conditioned produce sections at the store).

That’s it.  The rest of it is all sweat and humidity and mosquitoes and People Who Really Shouldn’t Be Wearing Anything Sleeveless.

Enjoy your weekend, cats and kittens.  I’ll be sitting on my couch, watching documentaries, and ploughing through 4 inches of 1×1 ribbing.  On 220 stitches.  Pictures may or may not be forthcoming.  I’m just happy to keep my head about water right now.

1. For the even-more insatiably curious:  The game is called “Accordion” and it’s the first game out of an an ancient, ancient downloaded solitaire software program called SolSuite 2001.  I decided I had to stop playing Algerian Patience and try one of the other 100 or so games that I’ve been ignoring for 8 years.  I wanted to win at least one hand of each of game, going down the list, in alphabetical order.  “Accordion” is first on the list.  Yes, I am rigid and dogmatic; why do you ask? [↩]
2. It’s not. [↩]
3. Definitely not.  Dream in Color Smooshy is one of my favorites [↩]
4. I’m currently working on a cabled vest in a dark fuchsia merino-cashmere blend.  I’ve got a few months to work on it so it can be immediately-wearable come fall. [↩]

I feel like I’ve been stuck in the same loop for a while.  I’m still knitting the Same Damned Sock that I was knitting four weeks ago.   I’m still monitoring Emma’s blood glucose levels.  I’m still trying to win this really, really annoying version of solitaire that gives the odds of winning as 1 in 200 games (I’ve played 250 games so far — no dice).  I’m still feeling the rumbles and stirrings of The Black Dog — it’s twitching in its sleep, I swear — and I’m hoping that it slumbers on for a little while longer.

There’s a wonderful article on the history of the metaphor of The Black Dog here.  I wish I had the energy to absorb it all, but I may need to wait until my Black Dog Season goes away in the fall.  The incongruity there is not wasted on me.

Before I went to Paris, I picked up, once again, À la recherche du temps perdu.  I love reading Proust.  It’s not for everyone, but I enjoy the slower pace and intricacies of psychological detail.

When browsing a stationery store in the 6th arrondissement, I found a note card, Questionnaire de Marcel Proust.  It posed about two dozen questions — in French — and I thought it was poking fun at Proust’s detailed observations of peoples’ characters.  A little research on the Innernets proved otherwise.

So, without further ado, here are my answers:

Le principal trait de mon caractère (the main feature of my character). I’m trying to come up with one word that encompasses reserved, quiet, and observant. Introverted is too frequently misunderstood, primarily by people who aren’t introverts.

Le qualité que je désire chez un homme (the quality I want in a man). Wit. He also has to be able to do his own laundry.

Le qualité que je préfère chez une femme (the quality I like in a woman). Discretion.¹

Ce que j’apprécie le plus chez mes amis (what I appreciate most among my friends). They get my jokes - or they pretend to.

Mon principal défaut (my main defect). In my opinion - stubbornness; in others’ - selfishness.

Mon occupation préfèree (my favorite pursuit). Despite the closet full of yarn, I still can honestly say “reading.”

Mon rêve de bonheur (my idea of happiness). A book, several cats, a cup of something hot, and a long stretch of uninterrupted time. Bonus points if it’s winter and there’s a fireplace involved.

Quel serait mon plus grand malheur (what would be my greatest misfortune). To be trapped by children and be unable to spend any time, energy, or money on myself for decades.

Ce que je voudrais être (who I would want to be - if not myself). Michelle Obama.  She’s one class act and has a handsome, brilliant husband who is crazy in love with her.²

Le pays où je désirerais vivre (the country where I’d live). I’d split my time between France (an apartment in Paris)  and the United States (my home in Ann Arbor).

Le couleur que je préfère (the color I prefer). Cobalt blue.

La fleur que j’aime (the flower I love). Violets.

L’oiseau que je préfère (the bird that I prefer). Ravens.

Mes auteurs favoris en prose (my favorite prose authors). Other than Proust, Jorge Luis Borges and Ian McEwan.

Mes poètes préférés (my favorite poets). T.S. Eliot and Anne Sexton.

Mes héros favoris dans la fiction (my favorite heroes in fiction). Stephen Maturin (from Patrick O’Brian’s books); Neville Longbottom (from the Harry Potter books); and Randolph Carter (H.P. Lovecraft’s Dream saga).

Mes héroïnes favorites dans la fiction (my favorite heroines in fiction). Elizabeth Bennett (Pride and Prejudice) and Harriet the Spy.

Mes compositeurs préférés (my favorite composers). I’m assuming this means “classical music,” so my answers are Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky.

Mes peintres favoris (my favorite painters). Monet and Vermeer.

Mes héros dan la vie réelle (my heroes in real life). Barack Obama, Winston Churchill, and Apsley Cherry-Garrard.

Mes héroïnes dans l’histoire (my heroines in history). Queen Victoria.

Mes noms favoris (my favorite names). Genevieve, Scooter, and Cecil.

Ce que je déteste par-dessus tout (what I hate the most). Prejudice and intolerance.  I really hate homophobes and racists of all stripes.

Caractères que je méprise le plus (characters that I despise most). Dick Cheney. The man is the incarnation of True Evil. Deceitful, self-serving, fear-mongering. He has set the standard for vile, cowardly behavior and has not one atom of integrity in his entire body.

Le fait militaire que j’estime le plus (the military event I esteem the most). This is the oddest question I’ve ever seen in a meme.  My answer — the invasion of Normandy; June 6, 1944.

Le réforme que j’admire le plus (the reform that I admire most). This is the second oddest question I’ve ever seen in a meme.  Off the top of my head, I’d have to say the 19th amendment to the United States Constitution.

Le don de la nature que je voudrais avoir (the natural talent I would like to have). I would love to be able to dance well or do gymnastics.  Actually, I would give my eye teeth to have any kinesthetic sense whatsoever.

Comment j’aimerais mourir (how I wish to die). I intend to live forever. So far, so good.

État présent de mon esprit (my present state of mind). Stretched thin.  I’ve been working on this questionnaire for far too long.

Fautes qui m’inspirent le plus d’indulgence (the fault I find easiest to tolerate). Narcissism.  It keeps the focus off of me and it can be endlessly entertaining if you’re in the right frame of mind.

Ma devise (my motto). Can you solo it?³ and if not that, then Hell is other people.

1. This can be interpreted a myriad of ways, and I mean them all. [↩]
2. And I envy her triceps, too. [↩]
3. Probably not clear to anyone who isn’t a gamer… [↩]

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.

Ernest Hemingway

I’ve been juggling two alternatives in my mind this morning,  whether to (a) dive back into blogging after a long absence and a Paris vacation, or (b) vacuum the floor of my study, which, in the light of day, looks like it has been covered in enough cat hair to knit half a dozen cats.   I’m choosing the first of the two, but I need to remind myself every now and then not to turn around and look at the floor because it really, really needs some attention with The Cat Sucking-Up Monster (i.e., the Dyson vacuum cleaner).  Distracting, that.  It’s best to pretend that the cat hair just isn’t there.

There certainly isn’t anything that I can add to all the words ever used to describe the City of Lights.  I can easily romanticize the city, but my words seem meager, paltry, and few.  I’m  completely inept at photographing a cityscape, and it seems as though people are more interested in “What museums did you go to?” or “Did you see this, that, or the other thing?” than in hearing about feelings or impressions.

I joke that I need to leave the United States every few years.  The U.S.  is too loud, too brash,  and too shallow.  It’s all about SUV’s, “bling,” trashy celebrities, bad television, the Super Bowl, Wal-mart, Starbucks, and the never-ending dumbing down of the media with its non-investigative, non-challenging journalism and 10-second sound bites.  The banality of culture.  The poverty of thought and expression.   I could go on, but I’m only agitating myself.  Let’s just say that if you can’t understand my need to get away from the United States, my reasons for traveling to Paris aren’t going to make much sense.

I go to Paris for the human scale.

I go for its antiquity  — America is so very, very young.

I go for the bread, cheese, chocolate, butter, and wine (and, that in a Paris restaurant, “slow service” equals “good service”).

I go because it is a city of museums, even though I didn’t go to a single one.

I go because it reminds me that I really need to get around to reading Voltaire. ¹

I go because “the older woman” is still valued.

I go because it is perfectly acceptable to have a glass of champagne as an apéritif.

The best of America drifts to Paris. The American in Paris is the best American. It is more fun for an intelligent person to live in an intelligent country. France has the only two things toward which we drift as we grow older—intelligence and good manners.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Oh, of course The Husband and I did some of the Tourist Things, and we have pictures to prove it. Well, he has pictures. All I really wanted to take pictures of was Père Lachaise and I did that. In spades.

The whole set can be found on Flickr, and I may (or may not) pretty them up some and publish them here.

My neck hurts, and my head hurts, and I’m still working on adjusting back to my usual hours — which aren’t that usual to begin with.  Later, cats and kittens.

Say fromage –

1. And Molière, Colette, and Guy de Maupassant. [↩]

I’m not so much “too busy to blog” as I am worn out at the end of a work day. Worn out as in “spending too much time in front of a computer screen.” I thought I should check in and scatter about a few random bullet points.

• Emma’s blood sugar readings were all over the map the first two and a half weeks.  I think we’re almost at the point of getting her on a fixed insulin dose and only doing the blood testing a few times a week as opposed to twice a day.  Let’s just say that I’ve gotten really good at poking lancets in a cat’s ear.  It’s a two person job, and I have a highly cooperative cat, but I still think it’s a marketable skill.




• Why is anyone still listening to Dick Cheney?  He is utterly irrelevant and the only thing I’m even remotely interested in hearing from Dead-Eye Dick would be his testimony before the International Criminal Court in The Hague.




• I am still in my Summer-Is-Coming-and-It-Sucks depression.  Our home air conditioning will more than likely be turned on later this week.




• I’m still in Sock Knitting Mode.  The Lenore Socks were finished a few weeks ago; I haven’t taken any pictures of them when I’m actually wearing them, though.  They are lovely and I’m completely in love with Blue Moon Fiber Arts Socks that Rock (lightweight).  Today, I finished Sock Number One of the Blackrose Socks and cast on Sock Number Two, using Dream in Color Smooshy in the Gothic Rose colorway:






• I’m in pain.  I have terrible allergies.  I’m cranky and contrary.




• I’m flying to Paris next Friday.




• Srsly.

I would, of course, prefer to eat that Cadbury Creme Egg, but this is creative enough for me to forgive their lapse in judgment.

10. Pain issues.  It’s been very bad since I’ve gone off one of my medications¹.  I have more intense pain to deal with, but it’s only for a “few days a month.”² Yes, that’s a euphemism.  Enough said.  I’m currently typing this while on too much extra-strength Vicodin and I have the attention span of a dog.

9. Depression. This goes hand in hand with #10 above.

8.  Lack of bloggable material. I’ve started a few posts in my head, but none of them have come to fruition.  I have one idea — using the Seven Deadly Sins to write about knitting and yarn addiction — but that’s inchoate at the moment.

7.  Facebook.  Yes, I finally got my sorry butt on Facebook.  I’m there as Laiane Wolfsong if you need to look me up.  ³

6.  Other Internet addictions.  Besides Ravelry, that is.  I’ve gotten most of my financial stuff up at Mint.com and I’ve been known to waste a lot of screen time with StumbleUpon.com.

5.  Worry.  I’m concerned that Emma, my 14-year-old tuxedo cat, is developing feline diabetes.  We’re going in to see the vet Thursday, and I’m doing a lot of reading up on caring for a diabetic cat.

4.  Morrowind.  I’ve said before that this game is the best computer game of all time, and the primary reason is its re-playability.  I’ve been a Morrowind fan for years, and I keep coming back to it.

3.  Knitting.  One thing I do not suffer from is Second Sock Syndrome, if only because after I try on the first sock off my needles I want the second sock ASAP so I can wear them both.  I’m cranking out the second of a pair done in this lovely Socks That Rock Lightweight from Blue Moon Fiber Arts.

This is the Haida colorway from the Raven Clan series, and it’s going to turn into a pair of Lenore socks.

2.  The Prisoner.  I hadn’t heard of this 1967 television series until The Husband mentioned it.  After Patrick McGoohan died earlier this year, he mentioned it again and we decided to order the series on DVD.  We’re more than halfway through, and I know I will need to watch it again to catch more of the subtlety (You know, foreshadowing, allusions, symbolism –  all that “literary” stuff that gets me excited).

1.  Too much cat help. A picture is worth a thousand words.

1. The continuous oral contraceptives; how much do you want to know? [↩]
2. As opposed to lower-level pain  — and PMS — almost every day. [↩]
3. I never use my real name online.  Most of the time, I don’t want to be found. [↩]

Nada. Zilch.  A big goose egg.  I don’t know if it’s my workload at the office, Daylight Saving Time, or what, but my brain is fried; my ability to write a coherent blog post has flown right out the window.

I can safely say it’s not Spring Fever.  Spring means allergies and mud and yard work.  Spring means that the horror of a Michigan Summer can’t be too far off.  It means mosquitoes, sweat, excessive daylight, and fighting the urge to wring the little feathered necks of those perky-perky-perky birds that start chirping at 4:00 in the fucking a.m.   Warm weather makes me cranky.

Welcome to my pre-Reverse-Seasonal-Affective-Disorder funk.  /sigh

I need Cadbury Creme Eggs.

I declare it LOLCat Monday.  So sue me.

The more time I spend surfing Ravelry, the more I come to realize that knitters — even though we share an obsession — are as varied and different as.. as..  Well, I don’t know what, but we sure are different from one another, especially when it comes down to What We Like to Knit or, more importantly, What We Would Never Knit. ¹

I admit to being anti-shawl.  Yes, they’re lovely and lacy and elaborate and challenging; I know all that.  I just see no sense in knitting one because (1) I wouldn’t wear it, and (2) “shawl” makes me think of peasant women sweeping the dirt floor of the family hovel.  Shawls are just not my cup of tea, and I can get my “lace knitting” fix by working up a scarf.  So there.

But I digress.  There’ are plenty of patterns I see in knitting books or on Ravelry that give me the Why Would I Bother?² reaction; but I occasionally run across the I Must Make That Immediately pattern.

This is what I’m leading up to.  I have been knitting fruit:

Ball Knitted Like an Orange

All of that preamble was to brace you.  I can hear you now: “Laiane, why did you knit an orange?”

Because I can.  Because it was there.  Because I saw this pattern in the winter edition of Knitty and thought it was the sweetest and cutest little thing I had seen in a long time and that it would amuse me no end to knit one. Because it was a vintage pattern.  Because it was wintertime and I thought some vibrant yarn might be in order.

Pattern: Ball Knitted Like an Orange, translated by Franklin Habit from the original pattern in Wheldon’s Practical Needlework, Volume One (circa 1880).

Yarn: ShibuiKnits Sock in Lily and Berroco Comfort DK in Lovage.

Photo with flash to better show detail and color.

Needles: US Size 1.5 (2.5 mm), Hiya Hiya bamboo DPN’s

Mods: The original pattern calls for six leaves, which I thought were too many for my ideal orange.  I used an old (clean) pair of kneehighs as a liner so that the stuffing wouldn’t poke out.  The pattern suggested whipstitching the holes/seams, but I didn’t trust my whipstitching skills.  That, and since I knit this at a fairly loose gauge, there would be stuffing coming out everywhere, not just the seams.  Since I used the liner and stuffed this sucker within an inch of its life, I couldn’t do the detail work on the bottom of the orange with the green tail from the stem; the needle wouldn’t pass through.  Ah, well.

I think it’s charming and twee, and I’m just smitten with it.  I don’t believe I could say the same of a shawl.

* * * * *

1. We could argue that What Fiber We Like to Knit WITH trumps mere pattern choices, but I won’t go there. [↩]
2. Or, What Were They Thinking? or They Can’t Expect Anyone to Actually Wear That, Do They? [↩]

Another Finished Object for 2009, my second ever pair of socks!

Tonks’ Socks

Pattern: Inspired by Charlene Schurch’s Sensational Knitted Socks.  I used the stitch counts for the six-stitch patterns, but I substituted a knit 5, purl 1 rib.  Since I was using a wildly-colored, self-striping yarn, I wanted to highlight the yarn –  not a complicated stitch pattern.

Yarn: Limited edition Harry Potter Sock Yarn by Opal, “Tonks” colorway.  I love the mix of bright and tepid colors; the self-striping bit makes me look like an amazingly clever knitter.

Size: Ladies small.  I wear a US size 6.5B, even though I have the Monster German Potato Farmer Calves from Hell.

Needles: US size 1 (2.25 mm), Lantern Moon Rosewood DPN’s

Shoes by Dr. Martens

Mods: I’m working on tweaking the “top-down with a  heel flap” type of sock to fit my feet.  In this pair, I shortened the heel flap by about 15%.¹  That did eliminate some of the bagginess around the ankle, but not entirely.  For my next top-down pair, I want to experiment by working in some extra decreases just prior to the the heel flap, as well as going down a needle size for the last inch of leg, the heel flap, and a portion of the gusset.

Yes, I am well aware that they don’t match perfectly, and that they’re fraternal twins instead of identical twins.  I had no intention of trying to get them to match.  If you’ve read the Harry Potter books, you know that Nymphadora Tonks is hardly the kind of girl who’s going to worry about such an anal-retentive concept as perfectly matched socks.

And I bet she wears Doc Martens, too.

* * * * *

1. I did a 28-row heel flat instead of a 34-row heel flap called for in the pattern. [↩]

It has been a while since I’ve indulged in my fondness for LOLs — so here’s one cat¹ straight from the mean streets of D.C.

Another Obama photo I discovered soon after Inauguration Day needs no caption; it speaks volumes.

The winds of change, cats and kittens.  We haz it.

1. Sorry.  Couldn’t resist.  Except to use as a ham-handed segue, I would never, ever refer to BHO as a  “‘cat.” [↩]